I love the word “escape.” It has such a powerful, defining sound to it.
In the dream, a girlfriend of mine asked me where my place of escape would be located. In the dream she suggested Mammoth Lakes but I had to remind her that I already lived in Mammoth so if I were to escape and disappear, Mammoth would be out of the question. Unless, of course, I cut and dyed my hair, changed the gate of my walk, lost 50 pounds, changed my name, lowered my voice and talked with a Russian or Scandinavian accent.
Oh … and bought contact lenses which would turn my eyes from brown to blue or green.
I called and asked one of my Los Angeles girlfriends if she ever dreamt of escaping. To my surprise, she said no. I was shocked.
Doesn’t everyone dream of escaping for a few days and not tell anyone where they are going? She did a conference call with me and one of her friends whom I’ll refer to as ”Jane.”
Jane dreamt of escaping to Santa Monica for a few hours when her kids were in school but then as our conversation on escaping progressed, Jane and my L.A. friend went from a few hours in Santa Monica to a weekend in Cabo San Lucas.
Not only did the conversation finally manage to get my L.A. friend and Jane interested in escaping to Cabo San Lucas, but they are actually going to do it. No fair! I’m writing a column about escaping and all of the sudden they are “escaping” in April.
But is what they’re planning in April qualify as escaping? Not in my book.
Their husbands and kids will know where they are going and I’m sure they’ll have their cell phones close at hand. That is not escaping and disappearing.
When I refer to escaping, I mean really escaping and going to a place where no one will know me and no one will know where I’ve gone … except maybe my husband. It may help to mention that my great-grandmother used to do that. Her name was Tzivia and she brought 10 children into the world so of course she disappeared every now and then.
She would leave her Usvent, Lithuanian home for weeks at a time. The family legend goes that no one knew where she went and no one asked. When she returned, she would have sugar, flour and fabric for making clothes.
I wonder if my great grandfather Fifel ever asked her where she went or if he just looked the other way.
Under the Russian oppression in the 1920s and 1930s, things like sugar and flour were hard to get so maybe he just gave her a “look” and then went back to mending shoes.
I can guarantee that if I escaped for a few weeks from my homeland, I wouldn’t be bringing back ingredients for baking bread or sewing a dress.
For now I’ll just have to settle with little escapes here and there. Unlike my dream, some of the most enjoyable escapes I’ve had over the last few years have been with my husband. He loves escaping just as much if not more than I do.
Stacey Powells is a local writer and radio host. She hosts the Exhausted Parent Network Radio Show every Thursday night at 6 p.m. on KMMT. She can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org. For more of her work, visit www.exhaustedparent.com. Her column reflects her own views and not necessarily those of the Mammoth Times.